


Bouquets of Asphodel

by vanitaslaughing



Series: Mark of the Dreamer [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Afterlife, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: At some point the paths merge, for better or for worse.They all walked paths longer than most other people. One by one, the bouquets increase as the number of people left behind decreases. And the sun ever rises.





	Bouquets of Asphodel

At first he merely felt as if he were floating. Sleeping, perhaps, as he always had. For but a moment he hoped someone would wake him from his dream and he would look into familiar faces at a hotel somewhere in Lucis, that nothing had happened and he was on his way to Altissia before any cities fell, Oracles died, friends got blinded or royal lines completely annihilated.

But when Noctis opened his eyes all he saw was a vast emptiness stretching out ahead of him.

His upper body burned like hell and the almost familiar power that had always rested on his chest and finger both had vanished. There was nothing that told of power given to mortals by the crystal, no magic swords and spirits of his ancestors that whispered to him through the ring once he managed to put it on.

The ring had vanished – most likely shattered as the energy diffused and apparently burst forth to sweep Eos clean of the Scourge that had held it in its grip for so long. For but a moment he hoped he would be able to open his eyes in the real world to see the sun rise through the fallen roof in the Citadel.

Of course nothing of the like happened. He was dead. Nailed against the throne he never got to rule from by the thing that effectively had been his father – somewhere in the Citadel was his body, pinned against the throne by but a single blade. The blade his father had carried. The very same blade that had…

He managed to turn himself around. There was nothing but a vast darkness all around him, no other people as he had seen when he had given the final command before ordering the energy out to bring back the light. No Luna. No Regis. No Ignis, Gladiolus or Prompto. No Kings of Lucis.

No Accursed.

Noctis was once more entirely on his own in a place that lacked gravity, and he felt like he had returned to the crystal. Had something gone wrong? Had Bahamut called him back for some sort of punishment?

“Hello?”

No answer. His voice did not even echo through this place. It was simply swallowed up by the darkness that surrounded him.

Noctis Lucis Caelum was not a person who had been taught to give up that easily, but being entirely on his own again made his heart nearly stop again. The burning sensation was subsiding at this point, and he once more turned around. Still nothing, of course.

If the other three were here, did that mean that they had… died? Died out in front of the Citadel fighting a fight that technically was not even theirs once he had struck down Ardyn? Or had that simply been a figment of his imagination, a reminder sent by the Draconian what he had to protect? He was moments away from breaking into panic as he looked around and tried to move around properly.

“Ignis! Gladio! Prompto?” Noctis quickly brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Luna? Dad? Fucking hell, I’d even take Ardyn! … Anyone?”

He was on his own. Just as he had been in the crystal once the Draconian had left him to think about his duty. Unlike back then Noctis was anything but alive, and he was not preparing for his own death for the good of the planet. He was rather certain that after being weakened by the Lucii like that his father’s stroke had all but killed him nearly immediately. He hadn’t even known that his father could strike that precisely, but then again Noctis had barely seen the man wield his weapons.

Just as he was about to curl up once more in this empty space and brood, a could shudder went down his spine. Something had brushed his burning back with a cold hand, which could only mean one thing.

“Shiva.”

“ _The Draconian would have preferred to let you find your own way, but after all you had done this hardly seemed like the right thing to do. You are not alone, King of the Stone. You have not been forgotten.”_

The Glacian had always been the fondest of humans, or so the stories told. She had helped him in the moment he would have last expected her to not once but twice – once when a trap Ardyn had tried to spring failed to do so and the Accursed had gone into the field himself; once when the fight in front of the Citadel reached its highest point as temperatures rose while Ifrit most likely all but made ready to unleash true Hellfire upon Noctis and his friends. He knew her as Gentiana, the Messenger who had lived in Tenebrae with the Nox Fleuret family even after Niflheim took over the Manor and killed the previous Oracle Sylva. Thus, Noctis trusted the Astral even if she was far from a human-looking being any longer. Her skin had always been cold, but in her true form it all but was enough to immediately freeze flesh in an instant.

“You would have left me floating out here on my own and let me find my way somewhere on my own?”

“… _No. Not we. But there were… things we had to take care of ere we could find you – perhaps he thought that you would have made your way to the gates to the beyond on your own by now.”_

The gates to the beyond.

If he hadn’t known already he would have laughed.

He was dead. Really dead.

“Wait. What were _you_ doing that kept you from picking me up?”

“ _Unforgivable actions weigh heavy even against those that never once chose the path they walked willingly. There are some who would prefer an eternal sleep in the dark over the beyond – some whose sins would prevent them from moving on, some who would sow chaos in the peace beyond. Others are given a choice of sleep or peace – and much as the Accursed acted without a conscience, he was given the choice.”_

“… What did he choose?”

“ _He asked for more time. That is why I decided to get you where you belong – to the people who died before you that miss you dearly. Come, O King of the Stone. Your duty is over.”_

* * *

He saw in the dark – he was fully aware there was nothing around and about in this vast empty stretch of void. Sometimes there was a glimmer, the familiar energy that followed the Astrals as they went along with whatever business they had now that the Draconian’s precious prophecy had come true. None quite dared approaching him – good.

At first it had been mildly unsettled that even in death he retained the Daemonic ability to see in the dark. Now that he had brooded over it for gods know how long, it made sense. The Scourge had been purged from all things, up to and including himself, but after two thousand years it would have been exceedingly petty to remove something he had long since grown used to.

Or something of that like.

Ardyn would not look a gift horse in the mouth at this point – or complain about seeing the vast stretch of nothing. Seeing it and seeing himself at least meant that it was truly over. Every so often, he had died. It was unavoidable in Eos, but every time he did he merely ended up staring at his own body for a few (lacking) heartbeats before everything swam back into consciousness and he once more awoke. Way in the past he had often found himself coming face to face with the Carbuncle that watched over his family; the creature often worried and caring. Despite being told not to interfere with him, even up until the cloak of eternal darkness had the creature followed him around every so often.

It had stopped doing that five years into darkness and it had not resurfaced since.

Perhaps the Scourge had finally claimed the final minor Astral victim it would ever claim.

Being in the literal dark for once was calming him. However much time had passed – hours or years – did not matter to him any longer. The more he thought about things the more he came to terms with it. That was exactly what he had asked when he found his flickering vision beset by the images of the five whose wager against one had finally paid off.

“Give me more time. Don’t you have a successful Chosen to take home where he belongs?”

Darkness eternal – therefore it was extremely easy to pick out any source of light. It stood out like a sore thumb, a glimmer so familiar it almost made his entire body sting with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t rage; his anger had long since subsided. It wasn’t nostalgia; he had no fond feelings for this creature or anything, really. Nevertheless, he acknowledged its presence after a moment’s hesitation.

“You are not the one that followed me around.”

“ _No, we are not. The one you speak of has chosen to watch another at long last, to make certain he remains unharmed.”_

A Carbuncle would have spoken differently of a Dreamer – therefore the Carbuncle that had followed him around had eventually settled for looking after Aranea’s son. Ardyn nodded and the Carbuncle tilted its head.

“ _We come at the behest of the Draconian, as has it ever been our duty and our duty alone. Ardyn Lucis Caelum, we would ask of you – was the time granted enough to reach a decision?”_

“...”

He’d heard of it from several sources, up to and including a Dreamer who had come from the time the minor Astrals started dying off. But now that he actually looked closer, he saw that this Carbuncle was not the usual shade of light blue. This one’s pelt was of a darker colour, but the blue still stood stark against the dark void he himself had been sitting in for however long. It was still a Carbuncle, but the colouration threw him off, especially after knowing that his former servants and Noctis had all five been guided by two different, light blue Carbuncles.

“The choice remains the same?”

“ _It does.”_

The emptiness stretched vastly and quietly, and Ardyn had reached his decision long ago. He would prefer remaining here, truly he would. After all that had transpired this was exactly what he had always wanted.

Therefore the choice was clear.

“I would… move on, then.”

All he had ever wanted was death, and the void where tormented or plain evil souls remained was exactly what he had desired as a bonus. It merely meant that he did not deserve it. And even then, perhaps one day he would be able to return here; the Astrals commandeered the afterlife as much as the actual Eos.

The Carbuncle flicked its ears.

“ _So be it.”_

* * *

Time passed differently in the beyond than it did on Eos by itself, even if the beyond was a perfect copy of Eos. Sometimes when he blinked he swore he saw different, older versions of the cities and landscapes, but once he focused again he saw but what he had always known. Once the celebrations of dawn in the beyond died down, he got an explanation of it.

Post-mortem coronations all but officially made him a king, and his engagement with Lunafreya was made an official wedding, though neither of them particularly cared. They had just been glad to see the other and finally talk like they had when they were children. Perhaps not a budding romance, nor was it driven by desire – their marriage was as it would have been in the real world: one between two friends forced into it.

Still, about a week after that wedding Noctis found himself approached by the last person he would have ever expected to come talk to him out of his own free will.

“A word, Your Majesty, if I may.”

“… It’s wildly out of character for you to address me like that, Ravus. But sure. What’s up?”

Distance did not matter here, and if people wanted to they could cross an entire continent in the blink of an eye. That much he had learned already, and thus Noctis merely blinked when he saw himself standing at the train station in Tenebrae instead of a street in Insomnia. The train station itself was bathed in the light of sunset and the air smelled of fire. He looked over his shoulder to see the airships that Aranea had commandeered back then, the entire little fleet of Niff-made airships that had brought the civilians to safety. Somewhere behind him, Fenestala Manor burned, and the only thing missing was the rising cackle of Daemons as the sun set.

“What do you see here, Noctis?”

“The train station, obviously.”

Ravus crossed his arms and looked around. “No. What is the state it is in?”

Noctis paused – that question was odd. Then again, Ravus had been dead for ten years; dead at the hands of the empire and Ardyn, then risen again as Daemon only to perish at the hands of Noctis and his friends. He was rather surprised that Ravus was not lunging at him and beating him senseless.

“…”

“Shortly before eternal darkness, I reckon?” He closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, then opened them again and looked around. “I see. That is the state that Tenebrae was in after… after the Hydraean’s wrath.”

“Wait. You didn’t see the train station like that?”

“I was effectively a prisoner without chains in the imperial capital at that point.” Ravus looked at Fenestala Manor, and suddenly his composed expression turned bitter. “I could have left with them, but I had to make certain your father’s sword would reach your hands rather than any other’s, once I came to terms with everything. Alas, I was certain of two things; one being that your retainers would rightfully attempt to talk you out of stopping in Tenebrae, the second being that you would reach the imperial capital to take back what was yours. Thus, I stayed, even if it all but sealed my own fate and...”

He stopped there and closed his eyes again with a sigh. “Not that it matters now. But, I reckon none have quite told you or taught you yet. You must have noticed by now that sometimes reality seems to change for a second?”

Noctis was more hung up over what Ravus had stopped himself from saying as he looked at the airships. But he nodded anyway, trying to think of anything that his friends had told him in the hours he had spent with them before his death – he came up with nothing.

“If you wish to see through another’s eyes, you need only know the person themselves and focus. Close your eyes and think about wanting to see what they do.” Noctis did, and when he opened his eyes once more he almost stumbled away backwards. “That is all you need to do to see what another sees. That is all I wanted to say.”

The train station was almost radiant by now. A perfectly fine summer afternoon, and the smell of sylleblossoms drifted down the breeze. It was the country as Ravus preferred remembering it, a time before his mother’s murder, Noctis realised with a jolt of terror. He looked around and noticed that despite the imperial occupation of most of the country at this point it still looked largely untouched by said imperials.

“You will find Lunafreya in her gardens. I shall be taking my leave, then.”

It was rather odd to watch him go with no rude words or scathing hatred exchanged. Noctis almost wanted to stop him, but he felt like it would be intrusive – therefore he didn’t.

* * *

There were several things he could have done – could have rightfully done. Screaming, perhaps. Hurling out the scathing hatred that had kept him alive for a good three hundred years. Physically attacking him, even if he himself had never been the stronger of the two despite being the _older_. Simply leaving and ignoring this entire situation had also been an option, but eventually Ardyn settled for doing nothing and staring back.

Back when they had been children, right around the time that Izunia’s mother plot to rile him up against his half-brother had begun, Izunia and Ardyn had spent quite a lot of time staring at each other instead of actually speaking. Whatever bond they ever had had waned under the relentless and selfish actions of that woman, and if he ever saw her Ardyn was quite certain he would have attacked her for all the vile words and lies she had spread throughout her life.

But Izunia was not his mother, and his actions were ultimately his own.

Eventually their staring contest was interrupted by another man approaching his brother and asking him something. Ardyn was not quite sure he remembered who that man was, but Izunia merely sighed and walked away, leaving only that stranger looking at Ardyn for a moment. Then he nodded.

“I see. None ever told me about this, but one of them did look into the crowd like he had seen a ghost before he ultimately left us so we could proceed without dying.” The man bowed, which only confused Ardyn even more. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you… Uncle Ardyn.”

Izunia’s son Emil.

Ardyn shook his head – he had arrived and kept to the shadows, so none truly knew whether he was here or not. It seemed fitting enough, and he did not crave the company of other people.

“Would that we could actually talk, but I am here at the request of another.”

“No. Tell whoever sent you I’ve no desire to talk. Leave.”

“Wish that I could – but I am rather certain that you too would wish to speak with the Chosen King.”

He wasn’t wrong, and that was what made Ardyn angry. He narrowed his eyes at Emil and once more shook his head. The Accursed had died back then, his remaining anger left floating in the void, but the man that now resurfaced was the stubborn prince that would never be king. And said prince, said healer, did not wish to speak with the man who had rightfully ended his long life with naught but justice on his side.

Therefore Ardyn sent his nephew off with yet another decline. Running into Noctis was inevitable and part of his punishment, but he would try to keep it from happening for as long as he could.

* * *

Her laugh was just about as pretty as he ever remembered it being. Even if it was not a sweeping romance, they were more than happy to have each other. And Lunafreya definitely enjoyed being in Insomnia without the entire city coming down around her, or without being snatched away for plots to kill kings. Noctis stirred his tea and watched the city down below; this balcony had ever been one of his favourite retreats.

“Yes, that does sound like you and your friends.”

“Hey, don’t laugh! We thought we could use the money and that the target was easy, and so we left Ignis behind and got trampled for our troubles. But they, we still won and returned in one piece!”

It was rare for him to catch her on her own these days – she had sought and eventually found the man who had helped her escape Insomnia the night it fell. The very man the Lucii deemed worth of a night of effectively being king. Noctis hadn’t expected that very man to be Nyx Ulric, but the longer he thought about it the more sense it started to make. But Lunafreya herself was spending quite a lot of time with the man, apparently to learn about Galahd. She often said that she wished to see the country as it were, and thus eventually the Kingsglaive had taken the Oracle there.

This was the day she returned, and they were basking in the afternoon sun together, with Noctis stirring his long since cold tea. They’d spoken for several hours on end, something he’d always wanted to do back when he was alive. She, too, had wanted this for a long time.

People normally left them alone.

That was why Lunafreya’s laugh died in her throat when a Carbuncle suddenly jumped on the table instead of announcing itself, and Noctis jerked his hand and ended up shoving the cup off the table. It broke with a loud clang, but neither of them could tear their eyes away from the Carbuncle.

Normally a Carbuncle approaching meant someone they knew had but recently died and was on their way through the gates. Considering that every person Lunafreya had spent time with had died by now, this Carbuncle in particular could only be here for one reason.

“… Is it one of them?”

“ _The gates shall open soon; if you wish to catch them before they leave you must needs hurry, Lightbringer.”_


End file.
